The first thing I wanted
to confirm was if Bronya and Frima were really buried in Philadelphia, as they
had passed away in New York. Joseph confirmed that their graves were in
Philly. So I flew there with a plan: my dear hosts Avivah and Gabriel
Pinski would pick me up at the airport and kindly take me to the cemetery and
then Joseph's house. And that's what happened.
During the 45-minute
drive from the airport to Shalom Memorial Park cemetery, Avivah, Gabriel and I
introduced ourselves to each other. I soon understood that my hosts were very
much into genealogy, and that Gabriel also had Bessarabian ancestry - which always
helps.
As we approached the
cemetery, I feel uneasy. Following the map and directions sent to me by the
cemetery's office, it took us about fifteen minutes to find the location of the
plot. Soon after I located the back of the grave with the inscription
"Fishteyn". I gasped instead of saying "found it!. Avivah and
Gabriel followed me. It's not a small tombstone and was all written in Russian.
Luckily Gabriel can read some Cyrillic and told me their sad, and somewhat sardonic epitaph:
"That's it..." Frima was born in 1928 and died in 1997. Bronya
was born in 1929 and died in 2001. I put a stone on the grave, took some
photographs, and headed for Joseph's house. I noticed that another stone had
been placed on the Matzevah. Later, I found out it was Joseph himself who had
placed it there.
Joseph welcomed me like
family (although we never discovered if Arianna is related to me; she may be
related to the Fishteyn side of the family after all). His five grandkids played
in the house as the rest of the family slowly started to arrive. At some point,
there was a full house. Soon a table and
chairs were opened up and we all sat down to a generous spread of Russian food,
going from herring to shish kabob - and cognac and Bulgarian wine. Delicious,
to compensate what I was about to hear.
Joseph's wife, Arianna,
was the only relative Frima and Bronya had in the US, so they came to her as
soon as they got there in 1990, with the help of HIAS (Hebrew Immigrant Aid
Society). However, Joseph already
knew them from Czernowitz, so he could tell me about their life there. They
lived in a small house, one went to college and studied accounting. Frima had a
chance to get married, but her father disliked the financial position of the
groom to be, and forbid the wedding. Frima and Bronya never got married. They
survived the War just like Joseph's family, fleeing east to Mid-Asia. Their
mother, Surke Tolpolar (my grandfather's sister), is buried in Czernowitz.
Bronya and Frima managed
to sell their house before leaving for the US. The buyer asked for two days to
give them the money, but they had to leave immediately. The sisters asked a
friend to receive the money for them and send it to America. That never
happened, as we know from Raia's testimony.
Joseph also confirmed
they never received their belongings from Czernowitz and that they indeed lived
in a basement for five months - his basement. But it turns out this place was
made into a comfy room with beds and a bathroom, and Joseph's own family had
lived there before. Joseph gives me some new facts: Bronya and Frima had a
relative from Caracas, Venezuela, a lawyer with the Barsky surname. Upon their
arrival, already in their 60's and penniless, they asked for his help. He sent
them a US $ 1,000 check with a note: "this is my last mail, don't count on
me anymore".
Bronya and Frima never
learned English, never worked, and lived in poverty, with financial aid from
SSI (Supplemental Security Income), and they could barely get enough to eat.
Nevertheless, during their ten years in Philadelphia, they managed to save a
little. And they spent it all on only one thing: a place in the cemetery. But
why did they die in a nursing home in NY? Because, at the time, it was the
nearest Russian speaking nursing home.
At some point Frima was
in a coma and on life support for years. Arianna and Joseph would visit them
about once every 2 months, but at some point, Joseph could not see her anymore.
"They didn't let her die" he said, referring to the impossibility of
turning life support off.
Joseph finished the way
he started: "The sisters were very unlucky, never had anything good in
their lives". And then he showed me their picture. It's the first time I saw
Bronya and Frima, and to my surprise, Bronya hauntingly resembles my
father.
It's already 7:00 PM,
I'm tired and trying to digest this unfortunate story about my cousins. Would
their lives be better had they stayed in the Ukraine? I feel bad, I feel like
hugging them if they were still alive, I can't take my eyes out of their faces
printed in the photographs. I go to bed thinking of them and about Joseph's
latest concern. He feels the youth of today is losing connection with family,
he sees his grandchildren in their kindles/computers/iPhones all the time,
unable to establish a human, more direct, relationship. He tells me
"Cassio, you should not spend so much time and energy with the dead. You
have two kids, you should think more about the living."
Well, that is the
closest I will ever get to these two direct cousins. And the funny thing is
that it probably never crossed their minds one day somebody from Brazil would
make the effort to look for them, that a relative thousands of miles away was
actually thinking of them and giving value to what they were and represented.
Next day I have the
Mamaliga Blues screening at the Main Line Reform Temple. I thank Avivah and
Gabriel for following me into this journey of family discovery. It's been a
very busy weekend.
 |
| Joseph, his lovely family and me. |
